


I've Been Waiting For You

by ariquagmire



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Everything's the same except a few more people survived, F/F, Fluff, Viodora, Visadora, happy reunion, older!AU, slight angst at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 23:51:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17497682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariquagmire/pseuds/ariquagmire
Summary: Isadora Quagmire misses Violet Baudelaire dearly, and she's now hoping spirits can actually help her.





	I've Been Waiting For You

**Author's Note:**

> While reading this story, please be aware that english is NOT my mother language, and that I am terribly sorry for any mistakes I might've made. I do, however, hope you enjoy reading this, and I can only thank you for giving it a chance.

“BAUDELAIRE ORPHANS STILL MISSING AFTER PROVEN NOT MURDERERS.”

As she stared at the news, Isadora Quagmire sighed, hands washing away a few stubborn tears, her cheeks getting rosy at the warmth of her coffee as she brought her cup near her face to take a sip. 

Her eyes got up as she heard a few footsteps getting closer, and she quickly hide the newspaper on one of her drawers, resting her mug at her table and turned around to see Duncan opening her bedroom’s door, a worried look on his face.

“Dora?” He said, yawning. “Is everything alright? I thought I heard you crying.”

“Everything’s fine.” She responded, forcing her lips up on a smile. “Don’t you have work tomorrow morning, Duncan? You should be sleeping right now.”

“Don’t you even try to change topics, sis.” He interrupted her, entering the room and approaching her. “I know when you’re lying. Please tell me what’s going on.”

Isadora stared at him, blue eyes exactly like hers. While growing up she had become less identical to both her triplets, the resemblance was still very noticeable. And there was some things that time could never take away from their relationships. Their connection, being one of them.

She remembered, as just a child, knowing exactly how to find out when Duncan or Quigley were lying, or how to tell her brothers apart when even their parents got confused. 

And now, she cursed that damn triplet magic for not being able to lie to him.

“It’s just… Them, Duncan.” She answered breathlessly, and her triplet quickly wrapped his arms around her.

She had no needs for saying no more. Duncan knew exactly about who she was talking about, and it still hurt him too. Just not like it hurt Isadora.

She had always a tough one. Tougher, between all three of them. And he knew she was like that because she had the need of proving them that she didn’t need any protection even if she was their baby triplet sister.

After the fire, they were even tougher. At least until the Baudelaires arrived at that school. That made them back down, take of their armors. They were their firsts real friends they’ve had since Quigley. And Duncan was well aware of what Violet Baudelaire meant to his sister.

“I’m sure they’re alright, Dora.” He whispered.

“No you don’t.” She vomited those words with slight anger. “Don’t lie to me trying to make me feel better.”

He gulped, looking right at the ground with his sister’s sudden rage. Not that he blame her, actually.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that… We need to have hope if we’re going to find them, right?” He said, loosening his tight embrace so he could face his sister, placing a caring kiss on her forehead. “Now go to sleep, Dora. Tomorrow’s another day, I’m sure we’ll find something to help us find them.”

“Don’t get my hopes too high, Duncan.” She responded, laughing with no joy. “You know I can’t take big falls very well.”

And by that, she, of course, was referring not only to all the times they’ve had big hopes on finding their friends and had their hearts crushed once again, but to the day they had fallen from the self-sustained air mobile home. 

“You won’t have to face any big fall tomorrow, I promise you.” He said, leading her to bed and leaving her there, a soft yawn escaping his lips as he got out of her bedroom.

But she had trouble sleeping. She kept going back to that day, the day they fell, leaving Hector behind.

Isadora was terribly scared back then, he remembered. She screamed Violet’s name, right before the two of them reached the ocean. The two of them stood in the ocean, arms tired of swimming, a storm arriving. It was terrifying, to both of them. They were almost giving up before a submarine rescued them.

The moment they entered that submarine, they wanted to go back. The Hook-Handed Man was the first person they found there, and the triplets knew that if he was there, so was Olaf. And that meant all the sacrifices the Baudelaires had made for them turned out to be useless.

It hurt them for a minute, and they couldn’t believe the henchmen when he said he was on their side now. Not until a girl who was only a few years older, confirmed it to them, and showed there was no sign of Olaf on that sub.

She was sleeping at the time her dreams brought her memories back to her. That girl’s name was Fiona, and apparently she was the Hook-Handed Man’s sister. And had also met the Baudelaires. In their short period of time with the girl, they became friends. They made their mission to look after the Baudelaires, but decided to go on separate ways. Fiona would look for them by sea, and them, by land. 

It had been five years since the last time the Quagmire triplets last talked to Fiona. And almost six since they last talked to the Baudelaires. 

“Five and a half years”. She thought, waking up with sweat coming down her back. That was a lot of time. Isadora had just turned nineteen, celebrating with a simple party which was organized by Duncan, of course, and enjoyed only by the two of them.

“Violet would have twenty-one by now”.

Lost in her thoughts, she entered the shower, trying to wash her anxiety along with the dirt of her body. Cold water made her relax a little, waking up from all the nightmare-ish memories she had about her past.

She got out of the shower quickly, staring at her image at the mirror while drying her hair. It was sad to her to notice her blue eyes were nothing near as shiny as they were when she was a child. Their spark was gone, just as the person who was responsible for them.

She was skinnier and way more pallid than she used to be. Her rosy cheeks were now gone, no warm coffee to bring them back. 

Sighing as she was finally finished, Isadora shook her head, telling herself to stop those painful comparisons. She was not the naive girl from Prufrock Prep anymore.

Isadora dressed up, a simple pair of black boots and a dress, also black. Her dark look was broken as she choose a red overcoat and a white scarf to compliment her look. She would never use anything to drive attention to herself like that a few years ago, but for her “work”, it was better for people to notice her.

Though her brother got a wonderful job as a journalist for the newest newspaper in town (created right after that horrible The Daily Punctilio was shut down) that paid well enough so she didn’t have to work, Isadora got a little bit of money by writing her couplets.

Everyday, she went to the park, a single suitcase, her commonplace book, a few pens and a notebook. she sat at one of the banks and put a little sign at her side and sold love poems to whoever she could.

It was surprising for her just how many people stopped and paid her to write about their girlfriends and — which was the most difficult for her to write about — boyfriends. “Hopeless romantics are truly a rare kind these days”, she told herself after a week of doing that.

And she planned on spending another morning on that activity. She was already placing her sign on it’s place, before the cold wind brought a flyer right to her face.

She was still a curious one. When she was finally able to free her face from the flyer, she was very quick on reading it.

“Madame Lulu Knows-It-All.” Isadora read, quirking her eyebrow.

Fortune tellers were always a lie. But something about the woman on the flyer wa strangely familiar and trustable. She just couldn’t tell why.

She thought for a moment, and then her curious gaze turned into a determined one. Isadora quickly place her sign into her suitcase, grabbing only her commonplace book as she stormed of to the trolley station, face buried into the scarf to protect her sensitive face from the cold breath of that morning.

She was hit by sudden sadness when her eyes saw the trolley go away to the next stop. Her hopes were slowly going down again, until she heard a car’s beep, turning around to see a pretty and comfy yellow taxi.

“Good morning, Miss. Did you call for a taxi?” Said the driver. A woman. She had sparkly blue eyes and a soft, discreet smirk. She was wearing a leather jacket and a red scarf.

“I… Yes.” She blinked, and then nodded, making her way to sit at the back of the taxi, placing her suitcase at her side and her commonplace book on her lap. 

“Where to?” The woman asked, looking back at her. 

Isadora dropped her eyes to the flyer, opening it again before she could respond.

“Caligari Carnival, please.” That name sounded familiar on her tongue.

The driver looked a little surprised at first, but then smiled sweetly and started to head towards the direction of the carnival.

“If I might ask…” She said, eyes looking up to face Isadora’s covered face through the drivers mirror. “What is something like you going to do at Caligari Carnival? It was burnt down years ago. There’s not too many attractions there.”

Isadora’s stomach made a pirouette, and she gulped. Well, the name did remember her of something. Violet had been there. Maybe she could have any clues, after all.

“I need to see Madame Lulu.” She answered shortly, fingers tapping the commonplace book’s cover as they continued their travel.

“The fortune teller? Wow.” The woman said breathlessly, hands tightening on the volant as she made a risky curve. “And what makes you need her help?”

The younger woman flinched, eyes staring right at the ground. 

“I need to find some friends. I hope she’ll have the answers I need.” Isadora’s voice was too low. It sounded almost like a whisper.

“Oh, I see.” The woman pursed her lips, sighing. “I didn’t realize this was a sad occasion. I’m sorry.”

Isadora almost immediately lifted her face, biting her tongue not to answer that code too quickly. 

“I’m sorry—” She began, blinking. “What was you name again?”

“Oh, I haven’t told you yet. Excellent question.” The woman responded as she stopped the car. “My name’s Kit. And we’re here, by the way.”

Isadora looked through the taxi’s window, staring at a few small red and white tents reunited around a bigger one, which was purple, and contained burned neon signs that indicated Madame Lulu was there.

“Thank you.” Isadora breathed, looking at Kit. “How much it will cost?”

“Oh, don’t worry. We can discuss it after you talk to Lulu. You’ll need a ride home, won’t you?”

Kit’s voice was friendly, and Isadora thought she could trust her. Though she made no move of taking of the scarf that covered her face, she smiled.

“I suppose I will.” She said, getting out of the taxi and waving at Kit before turning around. 

Isadora took hesitant steps until she reached the tent. As she entered, a few bells rang in the air, announcing to the fortune teller a client had arrived.

Madame Lulu appeared out of nowhere, causing the younger woman to gasp in surprise. The fortune teller had a big smile in her face, eyes shining with interest as she faced Isadora.

“My, my.” She began, a voice filled with a very strange accent. “On what, please, could I help little girl with?”

Isadora’s mouth hang open for a feed minutes, and she huffed slightly.

“I’m sorry, Madame Lulu, but I’m no little girl.” That was a little bit of a touchy subject to her. “However, I need you help. Rumors say you can answer my question.”

She was lying, of course, because there were no rumors. But the fortune teller appeared to me proud of being talked about, and waved to her girl to follow her.

Isadora buried her face on her scarf a little more. She didn’t want anyone to recognize her there. Madame Lulu could be an enemy.

“Rumors are right, girl.” ‘Lulu’ said, proudly sitting behind her crystal ball as Isadora sat in front of her. “Now, please, what’s the girl’s question?”

Isadora studied the fortune teller for a while. Her two bigger teeth were obviously fake to the poets eyes. The gleam of her eyes was nowhere near normal. Not to mention her accent. That, she was sure, was fake.

“I need to find Klaus, Sunny, and Violet Baudelaire.” She breathed out without realizing, words being thrown at the wind right to Lulu’s ears, causing her eyes to widen.

“...” The woman stood there in silence for a few seconds, and her hands waved around the crystal ball, which started to glow as a misterious fog came out of nowhere, causing Isadora to shiver. “Spirts… They’ve come to talk to you, little one. They ask you what, please, do you want with criminals like them?”

Isadora stood up, cheeks getting rosy with anger. Her hand reached for the table, slapping it with not control over her strength.

“THEY ARE NOT MURDERERS! THEY ARE MY FRIENDS!” She screamed, watching the crystal ball jump out of it’s support and roll to the ground, a loud crack as it reached the floor, breaking in one million of pieces. Isadora looked at the support, her eyes getting teary as she saw a fog machine and a projector. “You’re… You’re a faker.” She mouthed, voice filled with anger, frustration and disgust. “You know nothing about spirits. You can’t talk to spirits. You can’t help me.”

Tears were already sliding down her face. Isadora turned around before taking off her scarf to wash them away, starting to make her way out of that tent.

“Wait! Madame Lulu could still help Little Star!”

And then Isadora froze in place. That voice… Lulu was too desperate to fake her accent. And that nickname… 

“What did you just call me?” She turned around to face the older woman, her eyebrow raised. 

“I— Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about, little girl.” ‘Madame Lulu’ said, nervously.

“You called me Little Star.” Isadora said, taking one step forward to study her again, and couldn’t help but to feel joy rising inside her. “You’re no fortune teller. You’re a librarian.” Sha exclaimed, a sweet smile showing it’s forms on her lips. “You’re Olivia Caliban. You once used to call me that at school.”

Madame Lulu— no, Olivia Caliban, was frozen off with surprise. She didn’t expect for anyone to find out about her identity. Not by calling someone Little Star, at least. Her mind travelled a few years ago, and her mouth hang open as she realized who was in front of her.

“It can’t be you.” Olivia said, breathlessly, no longer using her accent. “Isadora?”

The young woman nodded, tears of joy making themselves real as they came down her face, and it the Olivia didn’t last long before crying of happiness too. She was quickly on taking of her disguise before wrapping her arms tightly around Isadora.

“Stars, Isadora, I’m so happy you’re safe.” Olivia breathed as she broke the hug, hands carefully washing away her tears. “Where’s your brother? The Baudelaires will be so happy to see you…”

“Duncan’s at his work and—” She stopped talking, eyes widening as she felt tears coming back. “The Baudelaires… Where are they?”

Olivia smiled sweetly, and waved for Isadora to follow her again. The poet, of course, did as the woman asked for, following her outside the tent, until they’d reach the taxi.

“Snicket?” The Caliban woman asked sweetly, tapping the window to win a very concentrated Kit’s attention. “May you take us both home?”

Olivia wrapped her arm around Isadora tightly, and Kit smiled, waving with her head for the two of them to come in.

“I knew you were not some random tourist.” Kit cheered happily, taking a giggle out of Isadora. 

The poet was excited. Butterflies making all sort of crazy jumps inside her stomach, and all she could think about was Violet. She barely noticed the path they used, but she did notice when they arrived this time, in front of a big, beautiful beige house. It seemed comfy, very lovely.

She hesitated to open the taxi’s door. But a well known cheerful, caring voice made her do it. Violet’s voice.

“Kit! Olivia! You’re home early! Did something happ…”

She interrupted herself on the moment her eyes caught Isadora’s. Both girls stood in silence, staring at each other breathlessly, asking themselves if it was not just another dream.

Violet was the first one to move. She ran forward to reach Isadora, her arms tightening around her as clear tears of joy were shining in the sun.

“I can’t believe it’s you.” The inventor muttered in the middle of a giggle. “I can’t really be this lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one.” Isadora breathed, whispering in response. They broke apart, Violet’s hands gently cupping the poet’s cheek, and Isadora rubbed caring circles on the others temple. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The poet stared at Violet. Studying every single detail she had missed so much. Her blue shiny eyes, her sweet, beautiful smile. Her absolutely perfect features and porcelain face. My, how she had missed her. 

“You’re way more prettier than I could possibly remember, you know that?” She was woken up by the inventors voice, and felt her cheeks getting hot.

“Am not. You are prettier than me.” Isadora said firmly, pursing her lips, but she couldn’t help but to smile afterwards. She stared deeply at Violet, only blinking to realize how ethereal she looked to her. 

“Prettier than all flowers, which one is her namesake,   
It’s your sparkly eyes that stop my heart from ache.”

The couplet hang in the air as the poet recited it and bit her tongue. Violet stared at her, a little surprised, and smiled again.

She brought Isadora’s face closer and connected their lips in a sweet, loving kiss. All the butterflies the poet had felt before had disappeared, and she could only feel like she was in heaven. Violet’s lips were soft and caring, full of love. She smelled like jasmines and tasted like cinnamon. 

Isadora had waited years for that moment. A moment when she would be able to recite all her couplets to her love. When she would kiss her, hug her. The poet felt happy. The happiest she has ever been.

And most importantly, right here, in Violet’s arms, she finally felt home.


End file.
